


A Place To Crash

by AuthorToBeNamedLater



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, CT-7567 | Rex is a Good Bro, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt CC-2224 | Cody, Hurt/Comfort, Rako Hardeen Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorToBeNamedLater/pseuds/AuthorToBeNamedLater
Summary: After Obi-Wan "dies", Rex is Cody's place to crash.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	A Place To Crash

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I came up with this while I was drinking my husband's whiskey.
> 
> I don't even like whiskey.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Most Rako Hardeen reaction fic is about Anakin. That's great and all, but what about poor Cody? What was he doing during all this? Obviously, he was drunk-crying all over his little brother. 
> 
> The title is from "I Got You" by Leona Lewis. Even though the song is about a romantic relationship, I found it running through my head while writing this.

The door to his quarters at the Coruscant GAR compound hissed shut, and Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion leaned his back against the wall, slid to the floor, and covered his face with his hands.

_General Kenobi is dead._

_He’s gone._

Cody dropped his hands to his lap and closed his eyes. He’d left his men to their sadness in the barracks. Part of him had wanted to stay, felt like he should stay, but he knew he would have ended up crying with them.

The troops had each other. They’d be all right.

And their commander? Well, he’d have to be all right too. Rank had its privileges but breaking down in front of his men was not one of them.

_We couldn’t even go to the funeral._

The chime sounded and Cody groaned to himself. _Whoever you are, just go away._ He didn’t have the bandwidth for any more broken hearts tonight.

“Cody.” It was Rex. In an army of identical men, with identical voices, Cody knew Rex’s.

_Leave me alone, Rex._

“Cody, open the door.”

Cody didn’t oblige.

Rex pounded on the door with his fist. “I know you’re in there. Now open the door or I’m going to break it down.”

Lacking the energy to resist—and knowing Rex’s breaking down the door was no idle threat—Cody reached up and pushed the button to open the door. He didn’t even glance up in acknowledgement as Rex walked in, shut the door, and sat on the floor next to Cody.

Cody finally found the motivation to shift his gaze at the sound of a rustling paper bag. Rex set out two small tumblers and a bottle containing a not inconsiderable amount of whiskey next to Cody’s knee.

“We aren’t supposed to have alcohol in the barracks,” Cody reminded listlessly. As if Rex didn’t know that, and as if Cody hadn’t pretended not to see contraband in the barracks countless times.

“Huh,” Rex grunted. Undaunted as Cody knew he would be, the other trooper popped open the bottle and filled both glasses. “Then I guess we’d better get rid of it.”

Cody picked up his glass and took a long swig. He narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t the cheap stuff the troops usually smuggled in. Where—and how—had Rex managed to procure it?

“Don’t ask,” Rex said, obviously sensing the question forming in his friend’s mind.

Cody didn’t ask. Rex refilled both their glasses.

They drank in silence until the liquor did its job and sent Cody’s inhibitions crashing down like a Separatist blockade. Rex set the bottle and glasses aside, sidled closer, and pulled Cody into his arms.

“Go ahead, brother. I’ve got you.”

Cody slumped over onto Rex’s lap, his tears drenching the other’s red and gray fatigues.

_“What’s going to happen to us?”_ So many of Cody’s soldiers had asked. And Cody didn’t know. The 212th might get a new general, or they might get disbanded and split among several units. Cody had no say in the matter. No clone had any say in any aspect in this damned war.

“I’m scared,” Cody admitted when he got enough control to speak.

“I know.” Rex’s voice held no judgment.

Cody blindly reached one hand to grope for Rex’s, and when he felt Rex’s fingers around his own everything fell apart again.

“I’ve got you,” Rex repeated, rubbing Cody’s back with one hand and resting the other on the commander’s head. “I’m not leaving.”

Cody took a shaky breath. “What if I order you to go away?” He had no intentions to order Rex away, but the feeble attempt at banter proved a useful distraction.

Rex played along. “I’ll take the booze with me.”

Cody sniffed. “Leave the booze.”

“Can’t.” Rex’s hand ran across Cody’s shoulders. “You know what we say: ‘No clone drinks alone.’”

Cody twisted his neck to squint up at Rex. “Nobody says that.”

“Really? Well, we should.”

“No. It’s stupid.”

“I’m making it a _thing_.”

“You can’t make something a _thing_ ,” Cody grumbled. Stars above, they were bickering like a couple of batch-kits on Kamino.

“Sure I can.” Rex smiled. “How does a thing become a _thing_? Someone decides it is. And I’m deciding, ‘no clone drinks alone’ is a _thing_.”

Cody tried to laugh, but it just made him start crying again. Rex squeezed his hand.

“They didn’t let us go to the funeral,” Cody hiccupped.

“Who didn’t?” Rex almost sounded angry.

Cody sat up to wipe his eyes. “GAR Command. Skywalker tried to make them let us in, but….” He shook his head. “I don’t know why they didn’t give permission.” The idea that his men needed _permission_ to give their general a proper farewell would drive Cody to rage if he thought about it too hard.

“We couldn’t even say goodbye.”

Rex swore under his breath and pulled Cody back into his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Rex murmured. “Oh, brother mine, I’m so sorry.”

Sunrise would see more questions and answers Cody knew he wouldn’t like but would have to deliver with a straight face, grief concealed behind his rank. Rex would have to tend to his own soldiers and his own general. Cody would face whatever morning brought alone.

For a few precious hours though, rank didn’t matter, grief didn’t have to hide, and Cody wasn’t alone.

He let himself crash.

“I miss him,” Cody croaked.

“Me too,” Rex whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I started writing this fic back over the summer and finally remembered and finished it after I watched the trailer for The Bad Batch and got consumed with feels. Because I'm pretty sure we'll see Cody in there and I doubt it's going to be anything happy.


End file.
